


Loving The Sun

by a_very_visible_ghost



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Crush at First Sight, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Relationship(s), Slow Burn, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2018-10-30 09:45:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_very_visible_ghost/pseuds/a_very_visible_ghost
Summary: Dan didn't mean for this to happen, he didn't mean to fall so hard for someone who barely even knew him...Little did he know, the famous author and gay political journalist Owen Jones might just feel something for Dan too.





	1. Exordium

**Author's Note:**

> This is absolutely the fanfic you didn't know you needed, but absolutely did, until you saw it. You're all welcome.

It was a hot, sweaty, mid-summer evening when Dan had first thought of him.   
That particular day, the air had been deadly still, giving the unbearable heat no means of escape, creating almost desert-like conditions in a bustling London, which, despite the weather, had shown no signs of slowing down the usual hustle and bustle of a busy city, knocking the breath out of a few unfortunate tourists who, unused to the speedy atmosphere of England's capital, got caught up in the mess that was one of the hottest days in the year and were left winded.

Sighing, Dan looked away from his street facing window, now sparing only a conservative glance at the aged, crackling wooden frame that had fascinated him when he had first moved in to the small apartment.

He vaguely remembered spending ad least half an hour just tracing the patterns with his eyes, feeling every crevice and smoothing each splinter, simultaneously entirely lost in thought and completely focused on mapping the frame before his golden eyes, long ivory fingers stretching out slowly, hesitantly, before brushing them against the splintered wood, softly at first, then firmer as his curiosity grew, surprising himself at how such a simple thing could captivate his whole being, how each little line seemed to whisper secrets to him in a language lost to the outside world, how every time it crossed another line or how every time it stopped, just short of touching another, seemed to hint to him about the very nature of his being, and how each new thing he noticed brought on a new wave of a feeling he couldn't quite describe, something similar to describing a whole new universe in the corner of his window frame. 

He turned, promptly tearing himself from his thoughts once more, and decided quickly, with almost excessive eagerness (perhaps as a feeble attempt to rid himself of the useless musings that plagued him in every spare moment he had) to make some tea and get started on editing his new video.   
Once in the kitchen, he turned on the kettle and prepared his cup, already equipped with a lavender tea bag, before stepping away and bringing his hands up to rub his tired face, as though he could wipe the stress away in the same manner one might wipe a stain from a dirty surface. However, this proved to be futile, and all he ended up achieving was lightly stinging skin and a shift in the sea of earthy waves sitting atop his head. The quiet 'ding' of the kettle signified that he had to switch back into reality, and peeled his eyes open before picking the kettle up and pouring bubbling water into an off-white mug he didn't remember buying. The sunlight filtered through half-closed blinds, spilling onto the counter, creating bright golden streaks across the stippled stone that danced around his cup and climbed up into the quickly-colouring liquid it contained, causing Dan to stop for a moment and admire them, their golden colour reminding him of his hair, the way it shone in that very sun, and in he felt a pang of envy snap through him, wishing suddenly to know what it would be like to be the bright and eternal light, for it could touch his hair, which looked so soft and smelled so sweet when Dan had met him; and how magnificent it must be able to caress his face so carelessly without repercussions, something he could never hope to do, because it's irrational and this is just a silly little crush that he'd have to deal with on his own, and it's not like Owen would even like him back anyway!

Dan stopped himself then, because the mention of his name, of Owen, felt like a kiss and a punch to the gut all at once, and he had to remind himself to stop being ridiculous before he really did do something stupid, like text Owen and ask him on a date or something. The very idea chilled his bones, so much so that he promptly decided to turn off his phone and throw it unceremoniously on his bed before setting down his cup on his desk and sitting down to prepared, choosing to immerse himself into his work entirely and tuning out any thoughts of Owen that might be hiding at any corner.

Little did he know, the moment he turned his phone off, he had missed the simple note that was universally recognised amongst people who actually owned a phone as a new text message.

'Hey Dan, are you free next weekend? -Owen Jones'


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen's perspective today, hope you enjoy! I'll try to keep a consistent upload schedule, though I do have exams coming up so if I stop for a while, it's just cause I'm swamped with studying lol.

Owen's day had been consistently awful.   
Everything had gone steadily south, from the very moment he woke up, an hour late, to the rushed interview that was then received poorly by his readers, to the backlash from a careless drunk tweet he had forgotten about until he was suddenly bombarded with a dozen angry phone calls and a serious talk with his manager, finally topped off with him spilling coffee all over his new suit in a rush to get out of the crowded coffee shop before he was late yet again, this time for an important meeting with a company that had asked him to contribute to their new project. 

The company meeting was, to put it simply, shit. The chief director had asked him to act as a main consultant for their 'Acclimating To Modern Ideologies' project, which roughly translated to 'forcing stubborn old people to connect with the youth'. A shudder jerked his body involuntarily as he recalled the overbearing manner in which the man had spoken to him, his hands moving quickly in a fiery tango accompanying his vehement speech, his spit flying in his face as he became more and more abrasive whenever Owen tried to get a single word in, as though he was attempting to manually swat away any interjections or opinions other than his own; his voice raising to an almost alarming level as he got more carried away with his own ideas, instructing Owen left and right and giving him more and more tasks and criteria that did nothing to help his pounding headache.

He couldn't get out of that dreadful building fast enough, sparing the employees only the most chaste of goodbyes before practically dashing out of the clear glass doors that had held him captive for over an hour.   
The moment he stepped a foot into the evening air, he was hit with a blast of hot air that soon wrapped itself around his body like an itchy, homemade scarf from a relative you didn't know that well and didn't feel all that attached to, either, as the coolness of the air conditioning slowly wore off. He didn't miss it, though. It felt good to leave, to know that once he got home his miserable day would finally be over, and the temperature change helped materialise that realisation.   
He began walking in the general direction of the metro, and in the stretch of time before he reached it, having nothing to do but think, he chose to tune out of his surroundings and let his feet lead him as he drifted further into thought than he had had the chance to all day.

'What am I going to do? Sure, I'm known to be somewhat active on social media, and during the time I've spent interacting with people online I may have picked up some small things, but I certainly don't know enough about the so called 'internet culture' that he seemed so adamant about to actually educate people on it without making some horribly misinformed statements and claims, which would no doubt screw me over in the long run...'  
He then began to rack his brain for solutions, because if there was one thing Owen Jones prided himself on, it was being a problem solver, and a determined one at that. In all honesty, he'd love to just ditch the project and give the director a piece of his mind while he was at it, but being self-employed came with it's own set of problems, and it was starting to become a rough month money-wise.

After a few more minutes of desperately searching for solutions, which ended up being completely fruitless and only served to return him to his previous stress-induced headache, he gave up with a frustrated sigh; looking up to see that he was standing in front of the subway and made his way towards the gates. It was only after he had gotten on the tube heading in the direction of his studio apartment that the idea popped into his head, quickly proceeded by a wave of relief and even a small dash of smugness at his own brilliancy.

Dan.

The quirky internet guy who had signed his petition a few months prior was the obvious solution to his problems! Dan, a self-described 'internet addict' with a massive online following must be well-versed in the ins and outs of how the web worked, and even though he was only an acquaintance of Owen's, he seemed like he was genuinely a very kind and giving person when he met him, and he might just stand a chance of being convinced into doing a huge favour for someone who was practically a stranger to him.  
Well, maybe if he asked him out for coffee first, right?

With that in mind, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket and scoured his seemingly-endless list of contacts before typing out a quick message and hitting 'send' without the slightest hesitation. Content, he slid his phone back in its place and began to contemplate all the nice things he could do to relax once he got home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little anecdote: today my english teacher complimented my work for a short creative task we did, and apparently I have a 'strong, skillful narrative' wowow ok I guess this does count as revision then lol #confirmed


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some stressed Dan for y'all, ur welks :)

Dan awoke with a start, thick eyelashes blinking slowly before his deep brown eyes managed to focus on his surroundings.   
The first thing he noticed was how his keyboard was far closer to his face than usual, quickly followed by sharp pains shooting from his lower back up to his neck and reaching his temples. Jumping up in pain, he attempted to stretch his ache away before noticing his painfully bright computer screen that seemed to be the main source of light in the dark room. 

Oh no.

He had fallen asleep while editing, and now his video was strangely chopped, cropped, and, to put it simply, unusable.  
A groan of frustration broke past his pale lips; a quick glance at the time, 3:34 am, sealed his already-forming plan of just ditching it and leaving any attempts at fixing the mangled piece of work until tomorrow. 

He slowly got up, stretching his stiff joints before stumbling to his bed and flopping onto the soft duvet, not bothering to actually pull it over him (the heat, despite it being night now, had decreased only marginally, and it was safe to say that laying under covers would be unbearable). After shifting around for some time, Dan realised the reason he couldn't get comfortable was because there was clearly something digging into his back. Reaching behind him, he pulled the offending object out and realised it was his phone, still turned off from his earlier frustration. After a few seconds contemplation, he turned it on and immediately noticed a new message from... no, it can't be.

He blinked, once.

Twice.

Just for good measure, he rubbed his eyes and even turned the light on for once to be absolutely sure. It was a text, nothing out of the ordinary. He was a busy man, plenty of people texted him on a daily basis, and he usually forgot to reply to half of them. But the text message itself was not what had him up in an instant, sitting on the edge of his bed, trembling ever so slightly and painting a picture-perfect tableau of a frightened animal cornered by an inescapable predator. No, no, it wasn't the text, but rather the sender.

In a small box located right below the time on his lit-up screen, the small black letters that usually informed him of who the text was from had somehow arranged themselves into a black hole that sucked the breath out of him and jump started his heart beat, hammering furiously in his chest.

Owen Jones.

'Hey Dan, I was wondering if you were free this weekend?

'Owen? What is he...why...This weekend? But today's Thursday...That's only in...He said my name oh my god Owen said my...Oh god get a hold of yourself Dan! You still need to reply! Wait, shit, what the fuck do I say oh god what if I say the wrong thing oh god oh god what the fuck do I write? Right, calm down, let's think about this rationally...'

Shakily, he tapped out his passcode, having to re-enter it twice due to his jittering limbs, and quickly navigated the device to open up his texts. Once he did, he read and re-read the message over and over trying to figure out if there was some hidden answer in the text that would enlighten him as to how the hell he was supposed to answer.

Sighing, he finally decided there was no time like the present and began to type: 'Hi Owen! Yeah I'm free, haha, how come you're asking? If you don't mind me asking that is, haha!'

He deleted that one pretty much as soon as he finished typing, a disgusted groan accompanying the action.

'Yeah, why?'

No, that's way too cold! He'd come across as such an ass. In the trash that goes.

At this point, Dan's frustration was growing and he almost threw the phone again, but he decided against it, too absorbed in writing the perfect reply to give his other whims any attention. However, this resolution was beginning to wear thin as he typed out text after text, each one straying further and further from his pursued ideal. He was about to give up, when suddenly he typed out the perfect reply without thinking about it, and the act was so unexpected that if he was religious, he'd pretty much be thanking god for answering his prayers right about now.

'Hi Owen! Yeah I think I'm free on Saturday, why?'

Sighing, he clicked the send button and felt an immense wave of relief wash over him. He quickly plugged his phone in before turning over and closing his eyes, mind swimming with thoughts of sunny hair and shining eyes before he was enveloped in a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M8 get ready for chapter 4: the meeting  
> Finally getting somewhere right? lol they don't call them slow burns for nothing haha, get ready for like 10 more chapters of this shit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o shit its the meeting its the greeting are u mcfrickin ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't uploaded in ageeeessssss I know, I just kinda lost the inspiration for this fic bc like exams and college and shit. For some reason I find it easier to write about things I'm not that invested in, though, so expect more of this and a distinct lack of anything mystic messenger/kill your darlings related.

Saturday came around far quicker than both had anticipated, the long summer days cut short by the sharp anticipation slicing up their insides; the relentless heat melding each day into the next, forming a muddy kaleidoscope in their clouded minds.

This day, in particular, had been the hottest either could remember, ‘temperatures rising above 30 degrees Celsius’-or so the sombre radio host had stated that morning. From the moment Dan woke up, pulling his unconscious being out from a state of undefined suspension, he was thrust into the sweltering, sticky atmosphere that made each of his breaths cling to him and did nothing to make him feel less sweaty and disgusting. 

About three miles away, the usually calm-and-collected Owen wasn’t having much better of a start to his day. He, like Dan, awoke covered in sweat and had to disrupt his usual morning schedule with an unprecedented shower. To a man who values routine as much as Owen does, this was hardly ideal.  
As the icy water skid down his silhouette, he took the time to ponder over his plans for the day- namely, his meeting with Dan. Ah yes, the youtube guy, or whatever. An image of the tall brunette appeared in his head, and for just a moment he felt his steady heartbeat splinter for some reason, though because it was early morning and he was currently being bombarded with freezing cold water, he decided he did ‘not have time for this shit’ and moved swiftly on. He ended his shower promptly, scrubbed himself dry and threw on something he had picked out the previous night, an outfit that was practically the textbook definition of business casual. A water particle trickled down his face from his still-damp hair and he sighed petulantly before swiping it off with perhaps excessive vigour. Yep, he was definitely not having a good day. In fact, this whole week has been particularly shitty for him- was that why he was being so irritable? Sighing once more, he picked up his phone and opened up his messages, checking over once more the plans he had made with Dan a few days prior. Saturday, 12pm, Starbucks. His stormy eyes flicked up to the clock- 11:02. There it was, that stutter in his chest again. In approximately 58 minutes, he would come face-to-face with those stunning honey eyes, and the very, very pretty guy they belonged to. Shit. Fuck. With a deep inhale to calm his nerves, he slipped his phone into his pocket, grabbed his wallet and left his apartment.

To say that Dan was nervous was an understatement. His heart had moved on from jumps to somersaults and cartwheels, and he was pretty sure it was applying for a world gymnastics championship by now. The closer he got to the Starbucks, the more difficult it was becoming for him to keep his breathing steady and his hands from shaking. In fact, he wasn’t really sure why he was so stressed, but he just knew that the idea of screwing up somehow made him unbearably nauseous. I mean, this was Owen we were talking about. Owen Jones! Political journalism Owen! Respectable career Owen! Smooth and professional Owen, the golden hair, perfect-smile, gorgeous-eyes Owen! Meeting him, Dan, the college dropout with no real career path other than this weird internet thing that paid the bills for now, but for how long? Dan of the awkward social interactions and not-that-many-friends, of the weird hair and funny-shaped nose, of irrelevance and imperfection. Owen was meeting him, Dan, and god was he terrified of showing Owen just how much of a loser he really was.

...So, there it was. The bright green logo of Starbucks seemed to stare him down, judging his every move. He stepped forwards cautiously, edging his way to the looming glass doors, hesitantly stretching his hand towards the smooth handle as though it were to come alive and bite him at any moment. Inhaling deeply, he pushed it open and stepped inside the almost-empty building.

Immediately, he was hit with a blast of cool air that, while refreshing, brought his senses to attention and reminded him of the reality of the situation, making his heart skip once more. Alert, he scanned the room quickly, searching for the other man. Suddenly, his eyes hooked on a familiar figure reclining elegantly in a leather chair, like a well-cared-for cat, his slender hand wrapped carefully around a fresh coffee cup and, despite his own nervousness, he couldn’t stop the smile breaking out on his face at the sight. Stepping closer, he called out a greeting,

‘Owen!’

‘Dan!’ the man returned his smile, and beckoned him closer.   
As Dan moved towards him, he felt his worries fade, as though Owen was some mystical being with the power to calm those around him with a simple flash of his charming smile. Now at ease, he side-stepped towards the chair opposite the already-seated man and settled himself comfortably.  
'So, tell me about this favour of yours!'


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey get ready for some mushy romantic bullshit

They had spoken for what felt like a few minutes, half an hour at most, but in reality was closer to hours. The unpleasantly warm morning sun had become a blazing afternoon, and was now starting to show signs of early evening as it climbed closer to the peach horizon, all the while Dan and Owen remained blissfully oblivious- each wholly captivated by the other. 

Peace is a fickle creature, however, and it soon began shifting its feet, full of hopes to escape.

An opportunity came when Owen’s phone vibrated with a text and, while checking the sender, he happened to glance at the time. 5:53pm.

‘Woah, look at the time!’ 

‘Oh shit, is it really that late?’ 

They glanced at each other, and even though the natural progression of things suggested they should soon part, it was clear to them both that they wanted to prolong the conversation despite already having been in each other’s company for over 5 hours. Owen chuckled, feeling a bit sheepish that he had taken up so much of Dan’s time- this was his idea, after all. In response, Dan smiled and looked down at his hands, twisted in an odd-looking clasp in his lap. He really wanted to keep talking to Owen but he couldn’t think of anything to say that might sound reasonable. In fact, all he could think of were awfully cliché pickup lines, and he was pretty sure blurting those out wouldn’t go down well. Phil used to always…he used to say them but…Dan mentally shook himself and quickly changed his train of thought. This was definitely not the time to reminisce about his ex.

‘So, I, uh…Guess I should be heading home…videos to edit, you know?’ Despite his best efforts to telepathically convey to Owen that he still wanted to talk, all he managed was a weird split-second squinty thing in his left eye. By some miracle, the other man seemed to be on the same page and managed to come up with something that was far smoother than Dan’s squint approach.

‘Hey, can I walk you home?’

Well. It may be somewhat out-of-place given the context, but Dan didn’t hesitate to respond with an eager   
‘Yes!’ (perhaps it was a tad too eager, but Owen didn’t point it out-just like Dan wasn’t going to point out that this wasn’t an 80’s grease-style date, and that one twenty-something guy asking another if he can walk him home after properly meeting for the first time isn’t exactly usual).

And so they gathered their things, stumbling around in the small space, unaware that each of them is appreciating the accidental contact just as much as the other, and left through the double doors side-by-side, naturally falling into step with each other.  
...

The air outside was still just as humid, but had cooled down slightly since the last time they’d been outside. Unable to help himself, Dan tilted his head to assess the sky, delighted at the soft pink and purple tones revealing themselves from beneath the ocean of blue mid-tones. At this precise moment, Owen allowed himself a chaste glance at his companion, only to find it immersed in the overhead sky. He, too, was at once captivated- the way Dan’s honey eyes sparkled and his pale pink lips parted ever so slightly in innocent wonder…God knows Owen was never a very artistic man, but in that moment he swore he could probably write odes to Dan’s face if he was blessed with that sight any longer. Much to his disappointment and embarrassment, Dan must have sensed Owen staring at him and chose that moment to turn and face him, a quizzical yet peaceful look painting the gentle features he was admiring just moments prior.

A rosy blush spreading on his cheeks betrayed him, and he looked away quickly while clearing his throat. He decided to break the silence and go over what they had discussed in Starbucks, if only to save himself from having to address the subtle shift in atmosphere from what had just transpired.

‘So, you’re willing to save me from the suffering this god-awful project has in store for me?’

At that, he received a warm, but curt, laugh. ‘If you’re referring to me helping you with your research, then sure, you can text- or even call, though I doubt anyone other than my gran actually calls anymore- me anytime. I hardly sleep anyway’

‘Ah, I can’t thank you enough Dan, you’re saving one stressed-ass journalist from a mental break-down, you know’

Another chuckle reverberated from Dan, and Owen found himself joining in, his mood light and happy from simply being in the brunette's presence.

They walked in comfortable silence, all the while the sun fell further and further towards the fiery orange horizon.

After about half an hour of a steady march, broken up by casual conversation that quickly steered from professional questions to silly anecdotes and unusual facts, they reached Dan’s home. It was strange, really, how quickly they had become comfortable around each other. In no time at all, Dan no longer felt as though he was being interviewed and instead as though he had gone out to catch up with a friend, a feeling which Owen very much reciprocated. 

‘So...this is it. My humble abode, haha’

Owen smiled, and while Dan returned it in earnest, he also felt the need to fidget awkwardly with a thread coming out of his t-shirt, twisting the cord back and forth as though it could settle the sudden tension between them. It felt as though they were waiting for something, though neither knew what, exactly. Finally, after a few moments of anticipation-filled silence, Owen spoke up:

‘Alright, I guess I better get going. Let’s talk soon, okay?’

‘Yeah, no, of course! Bye!’

'Bye, Dan.' 

With a final glance at Dan, Owen turned and began heading in the direction of his own home, leaving Dan to watch his slowly-disappearing silhouette and try to work out the complicated knot in his stomach forming from their anti-climactic parting, and to deal with the potential consequences of what he would rather had happened instead.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some angst, some tension, its all inside this procrastination method!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated in a while but since I have yet to hear, well, anything from yall on the past few chapters, I'm gonna assume its cool bc nobody rly cares that much lol

The following days brought Dan nothing but misery. Him and Owen had spoken a couple times, but all the questions he had asked him seemed sterile, professional, so unlike the atmosphere he had felt that previous Saturday. After that, the conversation seemed to have died down once Owen was satisfied with all the information Dan could provide. He couldn’t understand what had happened to change Owen’s demeanour so drastically…had the spark he had felt between them just been in in his head? The subsequent week after their meeting witnessed all of Dan’s his doubts and worries as he analysed, again and again, each and every little thing he had said and done during his time with Owen. Did he say something wrong? Had he been clear sending signs that this was going to be strictly professional, and Dan had just missed them? Was Owen upset with him? Why was he acting so cold? He couldn’t seem to focus on anything else, his time had been consumed with thoughts of-

His train of self-destructive thoughts slowed to an abrubt stop when his phone rang, the ringtone causing him to jump.  
Sighing, he pulled himself off the kitchen counter and walked to where his phone was currently charging, pulling the cord out aggressively and going to answer it before checking the caller ID, his thumb stilling its movements as his face paled.

Oh no.

In a plain, white font that had never seemed so menacing to him before, the words ‘Don’t pick up’ stretched into a scowl across his phone. The scowl reflected his own in the smudged screen, and just as quickly as his mind had stopped, it now began racing faster than ever, his mind flooded with a fierce internal debate that quickly disintegrated into a blind panic, like an animal caught in head-lights he froze, his fight-or-flight responses seemingly short-circuiting and fizzling out as he felt himself trip and stumble between the two options as the seconds ticked on, and Dan, never a religious man, prayed to some higher power that the damn thing would just stop ringing on its own, saving him from making a choice that, in spite of the helpful contact name, he felt less than sure of.

Yet for all his trouble, the phone kept ringing, seemingly louder and angrier with each passing second, which quickly diminished any hope of him just waiting it out. Dan, with seemingly no choice, and feeling slightly more abandoned by God than he had before, held his trembling thumb over the ‘answer’ button for another painful second before he hesitantly dragged it across to pick up the call. Steeling his nerves in the split second he had before being required to greet the man on the other line, he raised the phone to his ear and spoke.

‘Hey, uh…what’s up, Phil?’ Dan was rather proud with how casual he sounded, despite the trembling of his heart rattling his whole body like a shaking leaf in the wind.

‘Took you a while’ came the brief reply, seemingly joking yet with that looming threat of irritation which Dan knew all too well.

‘Ah yeah…sorry about that, I was, uh, I was in another room’ Shit, that didn't sound as convincing as he'd hoped. 

‘Right.’ The reply was filled with just enough scepticism to send Dan’s stomach writhing into knots. He felt like a child trying desperately to blame a sibling for their fault in the face of their stern parents. Thankfully, Phil breezed past it quickly, opting instead to steer the conversation towards his goal.

‘So listen, I was wondering if you could do a little favour for me…’

‘Oh yeah, sure, what do you need?’ Dan cursed himself for his automatic subservience- they broke up months ago, he swore to himself he wouldn’t let Phil use him like that anymore, and yet here he was, the perfectly trained dog, obeying his every command the second he calls him.   
The few seconds before Phil answered filled Dan’s stomach with icy dread, his skin prickled with fear that felt like an electric current running up his body, sparking to life the anxious thoughts that had made a home in his brain.

‘...You know what, it would be easier to explain in person. Meet me in Starbucks at let’s say, 6?’ His voice rolled through the speaker in waves, the same smooth caramel rumble that had charmed Dan when they first met, an older guy who seemed so put together, so much more experienced…Now it made him sick, terrified at the prospect of falling back into his web of lies and rules and restrictions, but he couldn’t refuse. He knew all too well that even though it sounded like a question, Phil’s statement was nothing but a command, waiting for Dan to roll over and beg for him. He knew this, and he knew that he wouldn’t fall for it again, so he should just hang up and block his god damn number once and for all…Speaking of which, why hadn’t he done that yet? As he stood and contemplated, the seconds dragging on, he realised that now would be a good time to say something. 

‘Um, hand on a sec, let me check if I’m free then’ He sped-walked to his room and pretended to shuffle some papers, desperately trying to keep his breathing even-  
Why am I not hanging up?

A few more seconds pass before Phil clears his throat, impatience peaking through his polite façade.

‘So? Are you free?’ The sharp tones in his voice became more prominent, making Dan’s heart jump in his chest, seemingly as desperate to escape as he was.

‘Uh, o-one second!’ He cursed his trembling voice as his hands shook, frantically pushing and shoving papers on his desk,  
Okay, okay, I know what he’s like, I swore I wouldn’t let him manipulate me anymore, but…surely meeting him wouldn’t be so bad? I mean, it’s only coffee, I’ll hear him out ad least, it’s the least I can do…  
Wait, what? Least I can do? What the fuck does that even mean? I don’t owe him anythi-

‘Well?’

Dan’s hand froze. In a spur of the moment, he blurted out

‘I’m free!’

Wait shit why the fuck did I-  
‘Great, I’ll meet you then, bear’ came the cheerful reply, god he could practically feel the smirk radiating off of his face and sending waves of nausea through Dan’s body just before he hung up. 

Groaning, he pressed his palms to his face and pushed up as he slowly slid down the wall and onto his bedroom floor and hugged his knees before scrunching his eyes shut. The panic in his chest hadn’t ceased, if anything it picked up the more he thought about what had just transgressed. 

What have I done?


End file.
